Ever After at Sweetheart Ranch (23 page)

“You thought I was distracting him?” he asked mildly.

“No—­well, yes, but I was probably upset for other reasons. It doesn't matter. In the end, it's kind of funny, because we've both been bonding with the same kid.”

He eyed her, then briefly looked down. He had thick eyelashes a woman could envy, and they now seemed to hide his thoughts from her.

“Well, he's the kind of kid you want to help?” he said. “Unsure of himself—­he just needs a little encouragement. But that's what you do as a teacher, isn't it?”

“Yeah, but sometimes that gets lost in the craziness, you know? I enjoy being with kids, especially one on one.”

“You seem to like the science fair a lot, even though it's extra work.”

“Did you know I got my certification in both math and science? I love science.”

“Why didn't you teach it? Heck, why didn't you just major in writing?”

“I wasn't so sure of writing as a career—­it took me eight years to sell, and you don't even make all that much money unless your book really takes off. So being a teacher, something else I loved, seemed the safe thing to do to support myself. As for science . . .” She paused and thought back. “I wanted to stay in Valentine Valley, and the only opening was in math, so I thought, what the heck. And I was happy for a long time. But there's just something about the sciences. Talking about it with Matias, googling ideas, it's like . . . part of me came alive again.”

“I like seeing you excited about what you do,” he said solemnly. “I think it's been missing for a long time. I want everyone to enjoy waking up to the day as much as I do.”

“I've always been able to tell that about you, Will. Your love of the ranch is obvious in everything you do. I guess I've been envying that about you.”

“Are you going to do something about it?” He faced her, shoulders squared, hands on his hips, challenging her.

Her smile started slow, but she felt it grow until it almost split her face. “Yeah, I think I will. I haven't heard about any science openings here in town, but I'm certified to teach grades seven through twelve. I can check in Basalt or Carbondale, that's not too far a commute. Wow, for a moment I almost felt like I did when I first started to teach—­minus the terror of wondering if I could control a class.”

Then, to her surprise, he cupped her cheek with his hand. “You're glowing,” he murmured.

And he stared into her eyes like he was going to kiss her. Their breakup, the public setting, it all seemed to fall away under the spell of the powerful yearning she felt for him. But it was more than yearning—­it was love, making the love she'd thought she'd had in her early twenties pale in comparison. And the heartache—­at times like this it seemed unbearable.

He wasn't going to let himself fall in love with her, she knew that. So she gently turned her head away from his hand.

“Thanks for listening, Will,” she said, her voice breathless.

He cleared his throat, though he still sounded husky. “Glad to help. Guess I'll say good-­bye to Matias and go vote.”

“I voted this morning.”

“I bet I know who you voted for,” he said dryly.

“I bet I know who you'll vote for,” she teased right back, reminding herself of the friendship she wanted to salvage if she could. “Who do you think will win?”

“Mrs. Thalberg.” He heaved a sigh. “Hope my grandma isn't too unbearable for a while.”

She laughed. “See you later, Will.”

“You going to the welcome ceremony at the renovated house?”

“Sure.”

“Then I'll see you there.”

She watched him wave and turn away, and thought it almost sounded like a date. She knew it wasn't though, and he wasn't leading her on. He'd always been a friendly guy. And since his own heart was never touched anymore, he didn't realize how such tiny gestures could wound a woman's breaking heart . . .

 

Chapter 21

L
yndsay spent the next day going back through the e-­mails from her district about fall teaching positions, then scoured the career listings online for science positions. Though there were none at her own school, there were several within the district she could apply for. She felt more optimistic than she had in a long time and positively giddy about revealing her publication news to all her friends. If only Will . . .

No, she had to stop this. She knew it was going to take a while. Running into him everywhere she went wouldn't help, but she had to get used to it. And she had to make it easy for him by not mooning over him, or sighing, or, God forbid, blinking back tears.

But she didn't have to make things worse on herself by attending the 4-­H meeting at Sweetheart Ranch. She thought Will was capable of handling it by himself, so she stayed far away.

She parked her car a few blocks away from the welcome ceremony and carried her famous Butterscotch Delight pudding cake for dessert. The volunteers had remodeled an old bungalow-­style home, perfect for a recently discharged sergeant and her husband, who were ready to start their family.

Lyndsay set her offering at the dessert table being manned by Mrs. Thalberg. “I saw the big announcement of your win this morning in the
Valentine Gazette
.”

Mrs. Thalberg smiled. “Thank you, dear. It was quite an honor to be named president.” She leaned over the table and added in a low voice, “And to win with seventy percent of the vote, too!”

Lyndsay grinned. “We all trust you'll do a great job.”

“Thank you. And Eileen's input will be just as valued as before. She's still on the board of directors, of course.”

“So she won't quit?”

“Heavens, no! That would be cowardly, and Eileen Sweet is certainly not a coward.”

“Why, Rosemary, that's the nicest thing you've ever said about me.”

Lyndsay turned to see Mrs. Sweet being escorted to the dessert table by Will. She was wearing a flowery dress with a smart little fedora perched above the elegant bun at the back of her head.

And Will—­he was wearing worn jeans that hugged him in all the right places, and a bright blue polo shirt that emphasized his eyes, now shadowed beneath the brim of his Stetson. Lyndsay expected those eyes to shy away from her, but they met her gaze openly, frankly.

“Well, I certainly didn't say it just to be nice,” Mrs. Thalberg said coolly. “I only speak the truth. I trust you'll remain on the board?”

“Of course. And congratulations on your win.”

“Thank you.”

“William, shall we go find Travis Beaumont's sister? I'm looking forward to meeting a female war hero. Lyndsay, why don't you accompany us?”

Lyndsay hesitated, then reminded herself for the hundredth time that she and Will would be friends again. “Thanks, I'd love to meet her, too.” But she kept Mrs. Sweet between them.

They found Travis and Monica near the front steps of the house, introducing his sister Kelly to Sergeant Jamie Knapp and her husband, Craig. Jamie was in her midtwenties, enough years behind Lyndsay that she recognized her face but didn't really know her, especially since she'd gone into the army right out of high school and spent eight years doing several tours of Iraq and Afghanistan.

But now Jamie was getting a whole new start in life, a home and the beginning of a family, something Lyndsay was starting to worry she'd never have.

Now even her thoughts were sounding pathetic, Lyndsay thought in disgust. The day wasn't about her but a celebration and thanksgiving for what Jamie and other women like her had accomplished. Kelly, Travis's sister, was one of those women. She had auburn hair the same as her brother, pulled back into a loose knot at her neck. She was wearing a skirt, which made it obvious that her right leg was prosthetic beneath her knee. She and Jamie looked at each other with instant camaraderie, two women in a select group where women were still rare. Lyndsay admired their bravery, their ability to head off into the unknown. They were the stars of the meet-­and-­greet beneath a tent on the front lawn.

There were tours through the house, appetizers, barbecue, and dessert. Lyndsay felt the soul of the town at moments like this, when everyone came together for a good cause. And to see the tears in Jamie's eyes as she took possession of her house for the first time after risking her own life for the US—­it certainly put Lyndsay's problems in perspective.

To her surprise, Will stayed with her as they mingled. She saw members of her family and his eye them surreptitiously, but no one said anything. Occasionally their shoulders brushed, and it was torture and temptation all at once.

As the backyard emptied out after a tour of the house and grounds had finished, Lyndsay stopped Jessica to make an appointment to do the interview, and Jessica eyed Will in surprise.

“He knows about the book,” Lyndsay said in a low voice. “We can talk in front of him.”

Not that there was much talking, beyond setting a time and place. When Jessica had gone, Lyndsay forced a reassuring smile for Will and leaned close.

“Don't worry—­I will never say anything about you being connected to the book.”

“I trust you, Lynds.”

“Do you?” She eyed him, trying to find a way to keep things normal. “Well, you know I trust you. I'd even trust you enough to . . . give me a helicopter ride.”

His expression grew pained. “I can't do that.”

“I was just kidding, but now I'm curious. I knew you wouldn't give the kids a ride, but I'm a consenting adult. What gives?”

They stood alone near a bench in the back corner of the yard, which seemed like it would be a peaceful place, but not with the way Will seemed stiff with tension.

“It was never just about the kids,” Will confessed, “although it made me leery even imagining putting them at any kind of risk. I've really liked being with them, and for the first time, it's given me pause about the choices I've made for my future. But every time I think too much about kids, something inside me just shuts it all down.” He regarded her solemnly. “I know that's not what you want to hear.”

She shrugged. “I knew that going in.”

“But as for the helicopter, on our first date, when you hopped in, so confident, I actually
wanted
to take you up,” he admitted. “I'd never felt that way about anyone but my family.”

“I don't understand.”

“Well . . . it was Brittany who first suggested the helicopter. She found a ranch online that used them, and we made all these plans . . .” His expression turned wistful but not sad.

Lyndsay almost didn't breathe, surprised that he'd brought her up—­and that he actually kept talking.

“I never forgot the helicopter idea,” he continued. “We bought one, and I learned to fly. On my first solo trip I felt . . . connected to Brittany, at peace for the first time. Except for my family, I didn't want other ­people up there. But I didn't feel that way about you being up with me, and I admit, it kind of spooked me.”

“And yet we kept dating.”

With his hands in his pockets, he shrugged.

“You've kept yourself connected to Brittany and the accident for a long time.”

He put a hand on the back of the bench, his knuckles whitening as he stared into a distant past.

Lyndsay remained silent, and through some sort of magic, no one else came into the backyard. She was able to focus on Will and absorb the ache of frustration and loss. The fact that he was still talking to her about his emotions . . . she didn't want that to give her hope, because it could be all about putting her in the past.

He wasn't looking at her when he said, “Did you know we planned to get married right out of high school?”

She briefly covered her mouth, knowing her eyes still betrayed the surge of sorrow. She didn't know what to say, but he didn't seem to want a response, as the words continued to pour out of him.

“I know what you must be thinking—­we were really young, and would have changed our minds, but . . . I never felt that way. Brittany and I would talk about marriage and having kids all the time. I already knew my career—­hell, I'd been in training for it my whole life. I didn't intend to go to college, not then. She mostly wanted to be a mom, and being a ranch mom really suited her. She was all about family, you know?”

To her surprise, he turned and actually looked at her, as if he needed her to understand. She nodded, knowing her eyes were big and wet, and she had to bite her lip to keep it from trembling.

“Of course, after she died, I went to college. I just couldn't stay around Valentine and think of everything I'd lost—­everything I'd taken away from Brittany. But my heart wasn't in it, which is why I eventually dropped out. It was hard to find a new kind of life, when I hadn't planned one without her.” He sighed. “Turns out that I wasn't the only one in my family affected. My mom pretty much admitted that worry about me has stressed her out so much she took to drinking.”

Lyndsay gasped. “Will, that seems like too simple an explanation.”

“Yeah, it is, I know that. A lot of things have been stressing her out, but I've been one of them. We had a good talk, and she's glad I told her what I saw, and she's getting help. She and my dad are talking about it, too, since apparently she hadn't even realized she'd been shutting him out.”

Lyndsay reached to touch his arm, then stopped herself. “Well, that's good.”

“But it doesn't change the things I've done, Lyndsay. I can't ever be the kind of boyfriend or husband you want. I took marriage and babies away from Brittany—­I don't deserve to have them.”

This time she did touch him, gripped his arm until he met her gaze. “She died in a car accident in a storm, Will. You didn't take anything away from her. It was an
accident.
”

She felt him flinch.

“She was waiting for me and I didn't show,” he said woodenly. “That's the only reason she took off driving during a storm. I tried to reach her, to tell her I got delayed, but we didn't have cell phones then.”

The last was said so roughly that she felt it like a raw scrape across her nerves.

“That doesn't make her accident your fault,” Lyndsay insisted. “To continue to blame yourself—­”

“I know! You don't think I've told myself this a thousand times?” he asked bitterly. “But it doesn't change how I feel. It doesn't change how sick at heart I am every time I'm with her parents, especially since they're so nice to me.”

“Wanting to help them is a good thing, Will, but it doesn't mean it has to be about guilt.”

“I'd do anything for them,” he said in a low, angry voice. “I take their small herd of cattle to summer pasture with our own. I help with the branding, the calving, and the haying. But it's never enough to erase how guilty I feel.” And then he gazed deep into her eyes. “Thanks for listening and trying to help, but I'm beyond that. I just felt you should know the truth so you can move on, okay, Lynds?”

“But Will . . .” Her words died away. What could she say if he was determined to live in the regrets and mistakes of the past?

With a nod, he left her there in the backyard. Slowly, she sank down onto the bench, then put her head in her hands, the last of her hopes crushed beneath his cowboy boots. Will would never move past Brittany's death, because he didn't want to.

S
chool was finished Thursday, the day before Lyndsay's book publication, as if she'd coordinated it. On Friday morning, her new life as a public figure began. She was giddy with plans to check her retailer rankings every hour all day. She also intended to stop in at the Open Book and have a moment of reverie in front of the display of
A Cowboy in Montana.
To see her book on a store shelf was a dream come true. Maybe she'd call her dad and see if he wanted to go with her.

Jessica's article would appear in that day's
Valentine Gazette,
and when Lyndsay got a phone call at 8:00 a.m., she thought for certain it was about that.

She saw Kate's caller ID and answered. “Hi!”

“You've got to get to Main Street right away.”

Lyndsay was tempted to pull the phone away from her ear and stare at it. “What? This isn't about the
Gazette
?”

“Great article, by the way. I cried. But no, it's not about that—­it's related. Come on down to Sugar and Spice. I'll be waiting. And look good. ­People are going to be taking your picture.”

“Kate, what is this about?”

But Lyndsay heard the beep of the phone disconnecting, and
then
she stared at it. Look good?

Trying not to get overexcited, she took a quick shower and wore a casual blue dress and tan sweater. Public author clothes. She saw a bunch of missed calls on her cell before leaving, but she decided not to answer until she knew what Kate was talking about.

Her shoes weren't conducive to walking, so she drove the few blocks, turned up Main Street—­and would have rear-­ended a car if there had been one in front of her. As it was, with a screech of tires, she pulled over and just stared.

There was a huge banner strung across the street, with her book cover ten feet high, and beside it, the words Y
OUR SUMMER JUST GOT STEAMIER . .
 . THANKS TO OUR OWN
L
YNDSAY
D
E
L
UCA!

She took her foot off the brake, and the car lurched forward into the curb, since she'd forgotten to put it into park. She did so, turned it off, then slowly got out and leaned against the car just to stare. Her throat got tight and her eyes filled, even as she kept telling herself she couldn't ruin her makeup. But oh, to know how proud her family was of her, and now all her friends would know, too . . . gees, she better find a tissue.